My version of Clement Clark Moore’s Christmas classic … Emerald Coast edition. Hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Emerald Coast, not a single game was stirring, the hardwoods, pitches and wrestling mats as quiet as a ghost.The trophy cases and banners of high school hallways and gyms were dusted, cleaned and arranged with care, in hopes that district, region and – could it be – state titles would soon be there.The athletes and coaches were nestled cozily in their beds, while visions of record-breaking and postseason wins danced in their heads.
With my Christmas tree lights glistening upon my Home Alone movie poster of Kevin McCallister’s booby trap map, I wrapped the last presents as I listened to my favorite holiday song: RUN-DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis” rap.When out on the beach there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my couch to see what was the matter.Away to my Nissan and over the Brooks Bridge I flew in a flash, sprinting past the dunes and cannonballing into the gulf with a splash.The moon on the breast of the powder-white sand, gave the luster to condos and boardwalks so grand.When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a 45-foot yacht, no wait, behind it a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.With a little old captain, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick.More rapid than a Fort Walton Beach Lady Viking fast break, he whistled and shouted and called them by name, and on just the first take!Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!To the top of the gyms! To the trophy cases! Now dash away! Dash Away! Dash away across this Daily News coverage area oasis!As beach umbrellas that before a wild hurricane fly, they exploded in a flash, like a pivotal pick-six by Choctaw’s Amir Reese breaking a postseason game tie.So I followed them to nearby gyms where the reindeer they flew, carrying a sleigh full of trophies and banners, and St. Nick too.And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.As I opened the gym door, the hardwood glistening in the light of the moon, down the rafters St. Nick soared, whistling a Christmas tune.He was clad in an Ellis Alloway Choctaw football jersey, Crestview shorts down to his knees, his left sock Walton and right Freeport, a Baker lanyard around his neck dangling sleigh keys.His hat Vikings navy blue, red and white, each cheek splashed with South Walton and Navarre face paint.His Niceville-branded galoshes sported Paxton shoe laces on the left, Rocky Bayou on the right, his Hobo-esque sack packed with no restraint.His eyes — how they twinkled like a wide-open Chloe Burgos beyond the arc, his dimples, how merry like a star-laden Niceville soccer team with Camrin Pearson and Asher Nelson supplying the state title aspirations spark.His cheeks were rosy like Frank Beasley’s crew after a 40-degree November playoff game,the beard on his chin prickly, like corralling Navarre legend Emily Madril on the pitch or catching Izzy Harter amid her postseason cross county acclaim.The stump of a pipe he held tight to his mouth, conjuring up the strengths of Emily Webb’s Throwsville in a track and field state championship down south.And the smoke he puffed encircling his head, like a pin-tracking hole-in-one off the face of Lily Martin’s 7-iron or Hybrid.Unlike the lean Nick Venture and Elisabeth Breck, he had a broad face and a little round belly,that shook when he laughed, like the biceps of Michael Carter flexing over a run on the Sunday telly.St. Nick was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him as he gazed over the top trophy shelf.A wink of his eye and a twist to his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, filling all the trophy cases and hanging the banners, he and his smirk.And then he laid his Niceville foam finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the rafters he rose.He sprang to his sleigh, and did his best referee impersonation with a whistle, and like the shot put off the arm of Nunu Krider, he and the reindeer all flew like a missile.But I heard him exclaim, before he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
This article originally appeared on Northwest Florida Daily News: Stringer’s The Night Before Christmas … Emerald Coast edition
Reporting by Seth Stringer, Northwest Florida Daily News / Northwest Florida Daily News
USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect
